I'm Working On It
by Sare Liz
Summary: As a beginning, Tony Stark owes her an apology. But that is just the beginning. Movieverse. TS/PP. #1 in the 'Slice of Life' series.
1. An apology, to begin with

**Title**: I'm Working On It  
**Author**: Sare Liz  
**Disclaimer**: So not mine.  
**Universe**: Iron Man movieverse, TS/PP  
**Author's notes**: …here goes nothing.

--

Like most of his good ideas, this one came from out of nowhere. Or perhaps it was better to say that it came from nowhere, but was laid on the foundation of those two moments of the last six months – forgetting her birthday again, and the moment of seeing her from across the ballroom in that blue dress.

And of course, the idea was set in the context of reality, and shape of his life. And that life had dramatically changed the moment his chest was penetrated by shrapnel that came from his own factory. And though the world had not quite caught up to the state of his reality, his days of being the playboy of the western world were over. It just seemed so unimportant now.

Of course, with Obadiah gone, he was going to have to be much more present in Stark Industries, and business would be taking up much more of his time from now on. But to be certain, he was in a better position with the board now that stock had jumped 78 points since the press conference two weeks ago.

Still, he thought as he verified the right stores in downtown L.A. to go to with Jarvis, there would be enough time for everything. There always was. And somehow there would be enough time for _this_, this good idea of his, though he was damned if he knew how to go about it. He'd never actually been in a meaningful relationship in his life. He wasn't precisely sure why he wanted to start now, or at least, he wasn't able to put it into words, but there was something about her that called to him in an almost foreign way. She knew him. She knew every dirty little secret, plus all of the dirty little facts that were never secrets at all, and she was still around. She was the perfect assistant, it was true, but Tony couldn't help but wonder if he played his cards right, if Pepper might not be willing to become the perfect superhero's girlfriend.

But first things come first. He needed to properly apologize for leaving her on the roof of the Disney ballroom before anything else. And this, for better or worse, was not something that he'd ever done before.

Which perhaps explained her confusion as the car pulled up smoothly to the high-end boutique. Pepper looked over at him with the question in her eyes as they waited for the door of the Bentley to be opened.

"And why are we here?" she asked.

He got out of the car without answering and adjusted the sunglasses on his face as he held out a hand to her, taking over the usual job of the chauffer, as he did upon occasion. This time though, he held on to her hand for perhaps just a moment longer than necessary.

"This, my dear Pepper, is an apology. Savor it."

"An apology for what?" she asked, her voice tinged with wariness as she followed him toward the boutique.

"An apology for abandoning you so cruelly at the Fireman's Benefit."

Tony watched her blink as he held the boutique door open for her.

"This really isn't necessary, Mr. Stark," she said, her tone formal in that weirdly intimate way.

"Oh, but it is, Miss Potts. In fact, I absolutely insist," he replied with the same strange formal intimacy bred over the last nine years.

And so they shopped. Three hours and five stores later she had three new suits, a gorgeous evening gown, seven pairs of shoes and a very intriguing set of lingerie.

"Tony," she had said with something like panic in her voice, "we are not going into Agent Provocateur. You are not buying me anything from that store."

He hadn't stopped moving toward the door.

"No," she said quietly, but frantically.

"Yes," he said with calmness and serenity, already imagining the lovely Miss Potts in a white garter belt and silk stockings. Yes, he thought, a nice virginal white for Pepper Potts. While it was a statistical improbability that she actually was a virgin, relatively speaking she had nothing on him, so white it would be.

"No." The whites of her eyes were showing.

He took her hand in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. "We don't have to buy anything, just come inside. That's all. Just come inside." He applied a steady pull to her hand and when she finally relented, he tucked the hand in the crook of his arm and pulled her close to him.

"Tony," she started, speaking in such a low voice no one else would hear. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you. This is an apology," he remarked calmly.

"You've already apologized enough. I know how much you hate shopping for other people. Remember? I do all your shopping for you?"

"Well, then you can think of this as a treat for me, doing so well in my apologizing, because I guarantee you that I'll enjoy this store." He fingered a red teddy as they walked by and glanced up to see that Pepper's blush came close to the color of the lace.

Wandering nonchalantly by the section with the garter belts, he snagged a white one in her size – he'd been paying attention at the other stores. Size 6 dress, size 8 shoes, preferably with a four inch heel that brought her to exactly 6'1" – the perfect height, in his opinion.

"If you think I'm wearing that for you, you're out of your mind."

Tony looked over at her, all innocence. "Pepper, I'm flattered that you'd even think of it."

"I'm not wearing it. For anyone. Ever."

"Don't like the color?" he asked, reaching back for a black one before changing his mind and grabbing a pale blue one instead.

"It's a garter belt!" she said with quiet vehemence, and a light to her eyes he found fascinating.

"Yea," he replied, raising a single eyebrow, grinning, and staring her dead in the eye.

She glared at him. "You know," she said, "you haven't had any of your… traditional companionship since you go back. That's six months now. Perhaps you ought to look into that, sir."

Tony shifted so he was standing right in front of her, and held both of her hands for a moment. "Funny, about that. My tastes seem to have changed somewhat. My… traditional companionship no longer seems quite so compelling." And with that he turned around and wandered off into the aisles, seemingly leaving her alone.

Of course, fifteen minutes later, he came back with an armload for her to try on.

And three minutes later, he knocked on the door.

"Don't I get to see?"

"No."

"You modeled for me in all the other shops."

"Absolutely not."

"Maybe later?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

But not long after she did emerge, there was a large pile of rejects that did not include the pale blue garter belt. He said nothing, nor gave any indication of his barely suppressed glee.


	2. A different crew, a different view

**Author's Notes:** Thank you to all who have reviewed. Your comments and encouragement are quite happily appreciated. This chapter is a smidge less bantery, but Tony seems to be feeling particularly adult just now. I think in the next chapter we'll see our fun-loving boy genius again.

--

A month has passed since he'd bought her lingerie. It's not that she was trying to dwell on it, but it stuck out in her mind as one of the more emotionally conflicted moments to date, and it was a conflict that had yet to be resolved.

It wasn't that she didn't find him sexy. Of course he was sexy. He was Tony Stark, sexy, brilliant, and obscenely wealthy, if nothing else. Rather, it was what he did with what he'd been given. Pepper didn't judge, of course. It was Mr. Stark's life to lead in whichever way Mr. Stark so chose. It was simply that it had always been fairly easy for her to keep a certain distance from the fact that he was, as her friends reminded her, 'sex on a stick' because of his ability to demonstrate that fact with nearly every beautiful woman he saw. Tony Stark knew just how irresistible he was. And for Pepper, that made him oh-so-resistible.

Except of course, things had begun to change. Maybe other people didn't notice yet, but she'd noticed right away, though mentioning it had been out of the question. Was it post-traumatic stress? Perhaps. But Jarvis had been supplying her with daily reports since he first returned from Afghanistan about his sleep – how much, and how peaceful – and there had been nothing of interest. With the possible exception of his latest obsession, he behavior didn't even begin to qualify for such a thing.

No, issues of superheroes aside, there were other, perhaps more significant changes that have occurred with Mr. Stark of which the press had not yet gotten wind. And this, Pepper thought, this was emblematic of them.

As they walked into Tony's jet they were greeted by the three flight attendants – two rather matronly looking women, and one man, all well dressed in the Stark Industries uniform. These were not the trio of bombshells that Pepper had secured for Tony two years ago.

Putting her briefcase next to her seat at the conference table, across from where he'd already bonelessly melted into his own chair, Pepper just raised an eyebrow. The cabin crew were milling about, fulfilling their last minute flight duties, and as one silently slipped a scotch in front of him and a bottle of water in front of her, he just grinned, staring her down and refusing to look away.

"Before we left," Pepper said, breaking the moment and coming back to the business at hand, "Jarvis reported that the Inteliglass display panels had been successfully delivered and set up in the conference room. Also, the modified workstation you requested has been set up and tested – it is fully functional. We should have full access to him with a negligible delay time."

"Good. Any last minute RSVP changes?"

"The Secretary General had a shift in schedule, and will be attending after all."

He just nodded absentmindedly, and the ice clicked and clanged against the glass as he took a sip of his scotch.

"Tony, I…" she started to say before she caught herself and wondered where her brain had floated off to.

Sadly, she had his undivided attention once more. Quickly grabbing onto another, safer topic than the one she was going to broach, she continued on, blithely ignoring the intimate look of inquiry on his face. It didn't do to dwell on what tone of voice she'd probably just used.

"Would you like to go over your speech, sir?"

"That's not what you were going to say. What where you going to say, Pepper?" He was still somewhat reclined in his seat, and his eyes were only opened to half-slits, but she couldn't help but think there was still something predatory about his demeanor.

She smiled slightly and exhaled all at once. "Oh, nothing important. Would you like to go over that speech?"

He sat forward, all intense and still somewhat serious. His shoulders seemed to roll with the slight sway of his body as the plane began to taxi, his left shoulder and then the right as he put his elbows on the table between them. "Everything you say is important to me, Pepper Potts. And so I would like it very much if you'd tell me, right now, what you were going to say, just a moment ago."

Pepper swallowed. Why was she so nervous? She had no call to be this nervous. This was ridiculous. "I just wanted to say," she said, looking away momentarily before steeling her nerve and looking back to meet his eyes, "I'm really proud of you for holding this conference."

It was a full heartbeat later that his face transformed – softening into a little smirk, a quirk of the eyebrow, a tilt of the head.

"Miss Potts," he said, his voice a low whisper, carrying almost an admonishing tone. "Are you becoming a card-carrying, tree-hugging, liberal humanitarian?"

"Mr. Stark, I believe _that_ is the epithet the media has been throwing at you, not me. I, as per company policy, have no comment."

"Ah!" he said, as if he'd found a chink in her armor. "Are you or are you not about to attend a secret meeting with some of the foremost advocates of peace and liberal social policy in the world?"

"No sir. I just called them together for you."

"Now you're splitting hairs, Potts."

She sighed. He was teasing, but it was true. "What would you have me say, sir?" Her question came out slightly more brittle than she'd planned.

He got serious again – he'd been doing this more often, she noticed. "I just want you to say what you mean." His voice was still little more than a whisper. "I just want you to know you can say what you mean whenever you want to."

All over again, conflict twisted around her heart. Didn't she always say what she meant? Of course she did! …Except those times when it was more diplomatic, and frankly, easier to let him win the argument. Of course, it rarely got to the argument stage. She usually just failed to mention those things she thought he'd take exception to… Well, shit. That was probably what he was talking about.

"Sir, you're my _employer_," she said, trying to layer the last word with special emphasis so she wouldn't have to get specific with what she meant.

"For now."

Her eyebrows rose automatically as her eyes widened. "Am I being fired?"

"Do you want to be fired?"

"Not particularly," she said calming down as she realized he was just being Tony. "You know I hate job hunting."

"Then you're not being fired."

"What, then?" she asked softly, wondering if this had anything to do with the roof of the Disney ballroom, or the lingerie apology, or the lack of dancing girls in the main cabin – she would need to check if this was a temporary change or a permanent one.

His lips quirked a bit, as if he couldn't quite make up his mind what sort of expression he wanted to adopt. "We've touched on this before now, Pepper Potts. You're all I've got. You admitted the same. I think that makes us already just a bit more than employer and employee.

"Now come on, you've planned this entire conference well, and I don't need to practice my speech. Let's finish the last of the review from accounting and call the workday finished."

"And then what?" she asked.

He only smiled in response.

Four hours later, accounting, steak, and some good merlot behind them both, they were both sitting before the large screen TV, ostensibly watching one of Tony's old favorites, "The Hunt for Red October." This was true, except that he had promptly stretched out on the length of the chaise and put his head in her lap.

"What are you doing?" she asked, not just slightly alarmed.

"Taking a nap. It's wide enough if you want to curl up, too," he remarked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. Of course, it was wide enough for two, though just barely. And knowing Tony, he'd probably have his hands down her skirt – or up it, come to think of it – before they'd even gotten a blanket and some pillows.

No, thank you, Mr. Stark.

"There are other places I can curl up if I get the urge, thank you."

He responded with a rumbled murmur. "But I'd keep you toasty warm. You know how chilled it can get in here."

"That's because you prefer it cold enough to see a woman's nipples, Tony."

He chuckled. "Good point." He sighed, and continued, but his voice was fading into a faint mutter. "Tell 'em to turn up the heat from now on. Fuckin' tired of being cold."

And then he was asleep. It would be hours still before they arrived in Johannesburg, before they would be greeted by the retired Bishop of Capetown and the Irish rocker with a conscience. It would be hours before he explained to a group of a dozen men and women that he wasn't a humanitarian, just an industrialist and an engineer, but the day that shrapnel from one of his own creations was imbedded into his chest was a day he had a change of heart. It would be several hours yet before Jarvis would be displaying the product of the brainstorming of the impromptu think tank Tony had called together to help him discern a new direction he might take Stark Industries.

It was a working conference, and in four days he would only manage to get 12 hours of sleep. In between the work of the think tank and the work of networking between sessions, he could be found in the lounge area of their suite, at his workstation, drafting preliminary possibilities until she chased him to his bed.

That first night he'd gotten back up again to continue working until breakfast came, but thereafter he promised to be good and go to sleep if only she would join him. As it was, they compromised, and that compromise found Pepper tucking him in three nights in a row, each time remembering how she had found herself inadvertently stroking his hair on the plane as he slumbered in her lap. Each time she realized, she would stop, and then before she knew what was going on, she was stroking him again.


	3. A confession of sorts

**Author's Note:** You may not like this one, but that's okay. Soon we'll be back to our regularly scheduled fluff. Also, I had thought that each chapter would be one month after another, but in this chapter we still find ourselves at the conference in Johannesburg. Thank you again, to all who have reviewed. I value all of your responses.

**To the most esteemed retired Archbishop of Capetown**: My most sincere apologies to you, sir, should this get back to you. I hope you will consider this a respectful homage. If I could have put myself in there instead of you, I would have… only, I don't think this particular gentleman would invite me to such a summit.

--

Tony Stark was not always a man who did things according to the plan. Or, a better way to think of it perhaps, was that he always operated according to his _own_ plan, which was subject to constant revision and all out change at a moment's notice. Indeed, this was one of the qualities that made him a brilliant engineer – he understood the traditional ways and means, but he never felt particularly tied to them. It was also one of the qualities that made him difficult to live with, hard to follow, and nearly impossible to manage. It was all most people could do to just keep up with him, from his chauffer to his engineers. Except Pepper, of course – Pepper kept up just fine. She was occasionally two steps ahead. Now and then she even managed him without him realizing it until afterwards. But this particular change of plan had nothing to do with Miss Virginia Potts. It had everything to do with the short, barrel-chested black man in a bright fuchsia shirt who was presently standing in front of him.

They were alone in the conference room, as both had silently lingered for reasons of their own until Tony had looked up and saw the old man smiling at him.

"You got a minute?" Tony asked, as the plan began to change in his head. It was in flux and just at the moment he had no idea how it would turn out. He didn't even know what the next words out of his mouth would be, though that wasn't all too unusual.

"Of course," said the man kindly. He had an open face – the kind, Tony realized, that Obi had only ever managed to badly imitate, but not really capture, not like this man could. Not like Pepper could, sometimes. "Come. Sit down." He invited Tony with a wave to the chair next to him. "Now. You will call me Desmond, and I will call you Anthony, alright? None of this "Archbishop and Mr. Stark" business."

Tony quirked a grin both at the man's lilting South African accent as well as at his directness.

"Good. Now. There is a lot going on for you right now," the man said in all earnestness. He spread his hands out, as if accepting a gift. "Quite a lot of change in your life. What would you like to talk about, Anthony?"

Tony snorted, because didn't that just sum it up? But what did he want to talk about? Everything. Nothing. He didn't know. He told Desmond as much.

"Yes you do," the older man contradicted him.

"Yeah. I guess. I—do you hear confessions?" Tony had no idea where that came from - left field, possibly.

"Yes. Do you wish to make one?"

"I—maybe. I think so. I mean, I'm not Christian or Catholic. Not sure I'm down with this 'God' thing."

"And yet…"

"And yet. …I don't know how to do this. I—"

"Let me guide you for just a moment, Anthony."

Tony nodded and felt a tension he hadn't known existed, evaporate. The old archbishop told him about the need to be willing to change and give up old patterns. He went on a bit about God and forgiveness, and did more than just imply that it was for everyone (had Christianity changed while he wasn't paying attention?) and finally the old man got around to the secrecy involved, but that's when Tony couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Desmond, I really don't care who you tell. There's nothing I'm going to talk about that isn't already widely known."

"But Anthony, that is the point. It's not that I keep a secret. It's not that I don't tell. It's that once you confess it, once you give it up, give it away, you can't take it back. You change your life so it doesn't happen again. It no longer exists. _It no longer exists._ And so I ask you – are you willing for these things to longer exist for you?"

Tony had to think about that. He knew he wanted something different for himself. He wanted to get out from under the mantle of 'Merchant of Death'. He never wanted to be accused of being a mass murderer again. He didn't want to sell any more weapons, _ever_, and he wanted to take what was out there off the market.

But it went even deeper. It was like the first 21 years of his life he'd missed his childhood, missed having fun, going to parties, and for the last 12 years he'd been trying to make up for lost time. It was the parties and the girls and the booze, and just being so irresponsible all the time, ignoring the quiet irritation of those trying to keep him from driving off the cliff, like Rhodey and Pepper.

Tony knew he wanted to change, and there was a part of him that would have loved to own a magic wand to rewind the last 12 years. There was another part of him, though, that found the 'it no longer exists' bit daunting. There were implications to that sort of thing. It wasn't just about a god he wasn't sure existed maybe considering not sending him to a hell he wasn't sure existed, or even getting a bit of a reprieve from the staggering and occasionally overwhelming guilt in the here in now… It meant that Tony would have to forgive himself.

He just wasn't sure if he was ready for that, yet.


	4. Job security

**Author's Note:** Thank you again for all of the lovely reviews and encouragement. We're back to fluff in this chapter. Or, at least, there is banter and some adult preparation for the realities of life. Please do feel free to review, and remember that constructive criticism is always, always welcome. Thank you, and enjoy!

--

Pepper liked to do Yoga, but there always came a point when she started to think of her boss. It had always been the case. It had been years ago when it first started, when she was first encouraged to fold herself into an oddly comfortable pretzel shape called Half-Pigeon, and at that moment she had the realization that the same people who invented Yoga also came up with the Kama Sutra. There were certain postures in Yoga (and Half-Pigeon was one of them, in Pepper's opinion) that seemed to just scream, "I'm flexible! Come have sex with me!" Anything that screamed sex reminded her of her boss.

For a long time, Pepper just didn't like Half-Pigeon.

It wasn't that she thought badly of he boss because he was an absolute man-slut, it was just that she had a reputation to maintain, and a job – in the last nine years, she'd never noted him giving a repeat performance, and neither had Jarvis. It was a wonder that he had a clean bill of health and wasn't just teeming with disease. So really, it was fine to think of Tony Stark and sex, but it had always been completely verboten in her mind to think of herself in that equation as well.

So then why was she staying even longer than usual in Half-Pigeon? Pepper didn't particularly want to think about the implications of that. Or of her move to Full-Pigeon, which she rarely went into.

But after her shower and a cup of coffee, Pepper selected one of the apology suits to wear for the day. And for the fifth time in the last two months since he'd bought it for her, she put on a pale blue garter belt.

Which meant nothing, absolutely nothing. She hadn't told him about wearing it before and she had no intention to do so now – it was none of Tony Stark's business to know what sort of underwear she was wearing. It meant nothing, except that it was an interesting piece of underwear, you know? Not entirely comfortable at first, but you never know when you might need to feel at ease in seriously sexy underwear.

Not that she was planning some sort of midnight tryst with Agent Coulsen (who had a nice smile and lovely eyes), or even James, the flirty engineer on the GP radar project (not that he ever flirted where Tony could see him), but you know, just in general.

It was a rationalization that worked, most of the time. It worked until Tony would look at her, really look at her at any given point in the day, and just hold her gaze. Just last week when she was updating him on the reports sent over by the DOD on some of their non-weapons contracts that were still active, she caught him staring.

"Tony, are you even listening to me?" she said, lowering her clipboard to her side slightly. They were at the office and he at his desk, but per usual she'd come around the side to talk to him and he'd turned to face her, momentarily abandoning the work on his welcome piece that would accompany the annual report. He was staring into her eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm savoring every word." His suit jacket was unbuttoned and his tie had slipped aside just slightly. She could see the outline and just barely make out the glow of his arc reactor.

"Yes, but are you listening?" She herself was somewhat distracted, what with the outline and the glow. Somehow it seemed so intimate. She was trying not to look, trying to maintain eye contact, but she could see it from her peripheral vision.

"Not entirely," he responded, and his words were quick and light and Pepper was suddenly so glad his office door was closed. "Is job security the issue? Is that why we're not dating?"

"Mr. Stark, you don't date."

"Miss Potts, it's not for lack of trying, or haven't you noticed?"

Pepper ignored the soaring voice of encouragement inside her head. "I have noticed that you never invite the same woman to your bed twice. Or any bed for that matter. Doesn't have to be yours."

"That was then. It's a brave new world now, Pepper Potts."

"Yes, I've noticed, you've been a veritable monk these last months."

"Ridiculous. I masturbate far too often to be considered a monk."

Oh, God she was blushing. "I'm sure I don't need to know that, sir."

"Are you? Are you sure? Because I could provide details, you know. How long, how often, where – the shower is nice, for instance, but also—"

"Tony!" her interruption was quiet but frantic.

"Yes, love?"

"I—I—" and then her brain shut down. Had he just called her 'love'?

"I agree. Yes. Let's talk about job security. Stupid of me not to have thought of this before. Okay. No matter what happens between us, you always have a job at Stark Industries, if you want it, in this position, or another of your choice. If you don't want it, how about a level 3 Golden Parachute, and glowing recommendations – though with that severance package, you could start up your own charitable foundation and run it yourself."

"That's… I…" How had the conversation gotten to this point? But then she gathered herself together. "Mr. Stark. Is this a bribe?"

"No. Would you be susceptible to bribes? No. This is job security. Okay, what else is holding you back?" But before she had time to answer, he continued. "You mean all this time I could have _bribed_ you into my clutches? Pepper Potts, you hedonist, you."

She was backing up and he was rising out of his chair, slowly approaching. "I, no, of course, I mean, no you couldn't bribe me, and I'm not a hedonist, I don't think."

"We can work on that," he murmured, grabbing one edge of the clipboard and using it to pull her closer to him without actually touching her.

They were the perfect height, standing. She lost herself in her eyes as he came closer and closer until they were almost breathing the same air.

His voice was a soft velvet whisper. "I want your revised employment contract on my desk in two hours, with changes to reflect my decision, ready to be signed. We can go over the DOD report at that time."

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

"Pepper," he said, raising a hand and letting one fingertip tenderly trace a short path of her cheekbone. "Don't call me 'sir' again. You assist me. My company employs you. But I am not your superior, and you are in no way inferior."

She swallowed harshly and tried not to stare at his lips, soft, full, adorable. She tried not to think about his body, so close to her, radiating heat and power. She swallowed again.

"Will that be all for now, Mr. Stark?"

"Unless you have something you'd like to add, Miss Potts. No? Then I suppose that's all. For now."

He turned back to his desk as she turned to the office door, trying not to misstep and stumble.

"See you in two, Pepper," was his parting shot.


	5. The flirty engineer

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews. I appreciate each one, and they have definitely helped to encourage me in my writing. I haven't yet decided if this will be the last chapter of this story or not. There is more to tell, but I don't know if the right setting for that is another story, distinct, but set directly after this one. I need to think about that. In the meantime, here is something for your perusal. (Non-Sequitur: don't forget to check the 'M' rated stories if you are of age to do so, as I'm thinking of an interesting one-shot that didn't end up fitting in this story line.)

--

Tony Stark was never accused of being a good boy, but he had recently had a conversation with Rhodey and had his worst suspicions confirmed. What women generally want – says Col. Rhodes - is patience, tenderness, communication, emotional connection, a sense of security, and wild crazy monkey sex. And they want it in _exactly_ that order.

Tony balked at this, as he had experience with something like 200 different women, and not a single one of them had wanted anything but attention before the wild crazy monkey sex part, and none of them had wanted anything afterwards, at least that he'd noticed.

Col. Rhodes then had the temerity to point out just how contented any one of those individual 200 plus ladies hadn't made him. And now that Tony seemed, _seemed_ stressed Col. Rhodes, to be pursuing one woman in particular – did he really want to fuck it up? It was a point which Tony did grudgingly cede. But it got Tony thinking.

He'd been patient. He'd also been explicit in his intentions. He'd been tender. He'd also been demanding and occasionally petulant. If he and Pepper _didn't_ have an emotional connection, he wasn't sure he was capable of one, so that had to count. And last month he'd secured her financial future. So, all things considered, it must have been time for the monkey sex. And yet…

She shied away from his flirting with a little smile and a redirection of the conversation. The moments when they were physically close together were entirely too short, and while he thoroughly enjoyed their time together, she refused to be seen socially with him.

But Tony Stark was not a blind man. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted, and it wasn't that she didn't care. Possibly, it just wasn't the right time yet. Possibly he was still too close to his playboy past for her comfort – understandable, he supposed. Possibly she just needed time for reasons unknown to him, but until his meeting with the engineers in section 6, he'd never thought it possible that she might be seeing someone else.

She didn't always attend such meetings, but occasionally it happened, and today at the end of just such a meeting she indicated her intention to linger and he nodded to show that he would wait for her outside, idly wondering the reason, but fully trusting that it was a good one. He strolled out of the workspace at a leisurely gait. He had only just turned the corner when something caught his eye. He picked up the piece of machinery and started to fiddle with it, tweaking it before setting it back down again. He'd have to have Pepper send a memo of his changes later on, so the engineers and techs wouldn't think that the problem had miraculously solved itself.

Tony smiled a little at the image – every engineer occasionally just wished a miracle would occur and fix the bugs they didn't understand – but quickly the small smile was wiped off his face as he overheard a conversation not meant for his ears.

"Geez, Pepper, I thought I'd never get you out of the clutches of Mr. Stark, evil genius." The voice was laughing and low, and he couldn't quite place a name to it.

"James," Pepper said admonishingly, but with laughter in her voice, too.

"No, I'm sorry. Outta line. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it. Same place we went to last time?"

_James Deventhal_, Tony thought. _James Deventhal is flirting with my Pepper, and I'm going to fire him. I'm going to fire him, because Pepper wouldn't understand if I killed him._

"A simple apology will do just fine, James. You know I think very highly of Mr. Stark." It was her voice of polite refusal. With this, Tony was well pleased.

"Didn't you like the restaurant we went to last time?"

_She's been out with him before?_ Tony saw red.

"It was lovely, as I told you. Things are just very busy for me right now."

"Yea," he heard James say ruefully. "Must be crazy to be a superhero's right hand, huh? Can't imagine what he asks of you _now."_

"Mr. Deventhal, what I do or don't do with Mr. Stark is frankly none of your business, and if you must speculate about it, I wish you wouldn't do so in front of me. Have a nice day."

Tony clenched and unclenched his jaw, but was slightly unprepared for the look of outrage that accompanied the click of her heels against the cement floor of the shop as she rounded the corner. If he thought she could get no more upset, however, he was wrong.

Her eyes were full of anger and a single finger came up, forbidding him from saying anything at all. Nothing was said, in fact, until they got to the car. Happy was waiting for them, but Tony waved him off and he was back in the driver's seat with the door closed before it began.

"Pepper…"

"No! Not one word. You don't get to comment on one word of what you heard because you had no right to hear it. I cannot _believe_ that you were eavesdropping, Tony! Have you no shame _at all?"_ He had one hand extended to open the car door, but when she started talking, he'd ended up back up against the car, with her pointing a finger into his chest.

"No," he answered quietly.

"No? What do you mean, no?" It brought her up short, and she stopped poking him, but she hadn't moved away at all.

"No. I don't have any shame. Or, not much. At least, not about this. Actually, I've got quite a lot of shame about some things we won't go into right now. They mostly have to do with bombshells – both the female and munitions varieties. But when it comes to you? No, Pepper. I have no shame. And whether you want to hear it or not, you'll have to send a memo to the engineers to tell them about the modifications I was doing at that workstation around the corner. Which is why I paused there. Not because I don't trust you.

"And as for Dipshit," he started again, but was interrupted.

"James," she corrected.

"Dipshit," he affirmed, before continuing on. "Are you dating him?"

There was quite a pause before she continued. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head back, giving him a good hard stare. There was the same level of excitement and apprehension in his gut as when he faced down Obi on the roof of the arc reactor complex, not certain of the outcome, but not daring to be elsewhere.

"No."

"Are you dating anyone?"

"Well," she began, and his gut clenched. "There is one guy. The tallies in the for and against columns are pretty even for him, but I'm thinking about it."

_Please let it be me,_ he thought. "And? What do you think would push you over the edge in his favor?"

"That's classified information. I'm sorry, but your security clearance just isn't high enough, Mr. Stark."

_Oh my God, what if it isn't me? _"Could I put in a request for a clearance upgrade?"

"Could take time," she said, and this was just the point where his precarious perch mostly on one foot, but leaning against the Bentley slipped somewhat. Now his legs were wide apart, he really was leaning on the car for much of his support, and she had several inches of height on him. And this was the point that she took one step in, and her outer thigh brushed against his inner thigh. The fact that they were fully clothed seemed to make no difference to his libido.

"I could have a word with the person in charge. Speed up the process, maybe."

"Mmm," she murmured, drawing in a little bit closer to him. "Maybe. I've heard she likes you."

Their lips were so close.

"Yea?" he breathed out softly. "It'll suck to disappoint her, but I've only got eyes for you." And at that point Tony leaned ever so slightly up and caught her lips. It was a gentle kiss, and his heart, which had taken up residence in his throat, seemed to come back down to join the arc reactor in his chest.

The first kiss was gentle, the second lingering, and the third searing. When his lips left a little trail of kisses down her neck, while her nails scratched at the nape of his neck, while his hands smoothed down the invisible wrinkles at the back of her skirt, she spoke, finally, her voice soft and full of breath.

"I think. Maybe. We should get… in the car."

This was also the point that Tony realized, his hands on her rear, exactly what sort of undergarment she was wearing. The realization floored him and said awakening libido spiked to attention.

"You're wearing the garter belt I bought you," he said, not realizing how low and gravelly his voice had become through the haze of sensation.

Her eyebrow quirked upwards, even as he hauled her closer so their hips were sealed together.

"I had no idea it would have this effect on you," she said, her hand coming around so a fingernail could scratch at the corner of his beard.

He turned his head slightly to nip at the finger so close to his mouth, then once he had it, suckled it for a moment. He watched her as he laved her finger with his tongue. He watched her eyes glaze over. Then he pulled back and nuzzled into her hand.

"Yea," he said with a nonchalance he didn't actually feel. "We should get in the car."

And without letting go of her, he moved them away from the car door so he could open it, then ushered her in. When they were both seated with the door shut again, he spoke to the chauffer.

"Take us home, Happy."

As the car started to roll gently away from the door of the R&D3 building, Tony tugged on her arm, trying to persuade her to remain within kissing distance, but she was resisting. She directed a significant glance to the front seat, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Happy. Is it going to weird you out if Pepper and I snuggle back here?" He turned to look at her, and without pause, continued on, "Because we're an item now."

"Not at all, Mr. Stark."

"Excellent. On to Malibu, then. And if any blonde bombshells try to waylay us, feel free to run them over." And then she shifted over, still blushing. And then Tony kissed the blush right out of her.

"Gotcha, Mr. Stark."

--

The end?


End file.
